


Wanderers

by vohtaro



Category: Samurai Champloo
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vohtaro/pseuds/vohtaro
Summary: Following the events of Ikitsuki Island, Jin travels alone once again. Along the way, he continually runs into the one person who makes him feel alive.
Relationships: Jin/Mugen (Samurai Champloo)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	Wanderers

He wakes early, nearly dawn. Meditates. Practices. Exercises. He considers his supplies, his money, where he’ll go next. It’s a routine, despite the variability. Life is back to normal, as it was before their adventure. 

He is not content with it. Accepted it, yes, but discontent. 

Jin keeps his head low through the towns he walks through, doesn’t bring attention to himself. That aspect has become remarkably easier since parting ways with his companions. He knows to watch and listen instead of lashing out, interjecting. To keep his mouth shut, not cause trouble… 

He shakes his head, sighs. It’s senseless to linger on time’s long since passed.

But his mind often wanders to them… his friends. The only two he has. And now a year has passed since he’s seen them. He supposes that friends aren’t meant to be maintained that way. 

He heads into the local town near the river. The money he carries will provide a few days worth of food, but he’ll need work soon. Something to occupy his mind. Having a mind in the past is a guarantee for distractions and will leave him vulnerable. Not that he’s even found anyone worth drawing his sword against since… 

Jin grunts, setting his jaw and lowering his head to shoulder past some people. 

Mugen was a devil he knew, but a devil all the same.

\--

“Hey.” 

Jin’s hand stops midair, the familiar voice freezing him in place. “I’m impressed you’ve made it this long.”

His heart pounds relentlessly against his chest as his friend makes himself at home at his table. Mugen’s brow rises sharply and his lips form a tight line around the dumpling stick in his mouth. He looks exactly the same. Jin has but a moment to take in the details he knows too well. Old scars and faint stubble surrounded by wild hair, and bright eyes. Those eyes glaring into his own. Lamp light flickers in them, only accentuating their mischievous intent. 

“Yeah, turns out it’s a lot easier to stay alive when you don’t got all that baggage with ya.”

Jin pauses a moment too long. “Then it seems we’ve both fared better.” A lie, a damned lie.

If Mugen senses something, but he doesn't say. He briefly straightens his spine before grabbing a fish from Jin’s bowl, taking a gluttonous bite from it. He speaks mid-chew, the concept of table manners clearly still lost on him. “Yeah, don’t gotta worry about one of you gettin’ kidnapped or nearly killed all the time.” He leans over to one side of the table and orders a bottle of sake. Jin can’t resist stealing another look. How a year has gone with barely a change is beyond him. The man had played with fire and teased the idea of death so often in the span of time they were together. Perhaps that is the secret: to laugh death in the face allows him to never dwell on mortality.

Meanwhile, the same could not be said for Jin. Routine keeps him together, but his edges are frayed. Being given a taste of what life could be like surrounded by those who cared about him has disrupted the balance within him. His life has always followed a solemn and lonely path. Having the company of others given and swiftly taken away has been a more difficult adjustment than he expected. 

“Geez, back on that, are ya?” 

His eyes darted to Mugen’s glowering ones. “On what, exactly?” 

“All quiet and shit. It’s only been a _year_ since you’ve seen me. Ain’t got nothin’ to say to me?” 

Jin can’t resist: “Perhaps I couldn’t imagine you doing anything worth discussing in that time.”

The red flush that races along his neck elicits pure satisfaction. Mugen’s face turns away defiantly, “Tch, as if! You just don’t wanna hear about all the chicks I’ve scored. Lot easier without a downer like you around.” 

Jin raises a brow, hums, and continues to eat, giving Mugen his space to brag. The man’s ego knows no limits. He is self centered, conceited, hardly gives a thought to anyone beyond himself… 

He’s utterly captivating. 

“So, that’s all you’ve been doing?” He asks. “Having sex?” 

Mugen rolls his eyes, grabbing for yet another fish. “Killed a coupl’a guys along the way.” 

“Hmm.” 

They eat in relative silence until the bill arrives. Mugen begrudgingly forfeits some cash but they manage to pay in full. They emerge from the restaurant, standing in the middle of the street. It’s a cool evening, the sun is just setting. People walk slowly around them, staring occasionally at their swords with mild concern before carrying on.

“So,” Mugen reaches both arms upwards, stretching up to the sky before interlocking his hands behind his head, “what’s a shithole like this got in the way of entertainment?”

Jin looks down the road. “I can’t say. I’m only passing through.” 

Mugen’s interest appears piqued. “Where ya headed?” 

Jin takes the moment to read what he can. Mugen isn’t exactly a closed book, but he is skillfully reserved where it matters. In the time they spent together, it didn’t even take an idiot to figure out Mugen’s mood. He’s loud and brash, heavily aggressive. But being a lone wanderer with no loyalty means his direction is a mystery. He isn’t public about his plans, whether he has any or not. Jin doesn’t want to make a misstep here. 

“I haven’t decided.” A half truth; as of this morning, he thought to head South. As of about an hour ago, he became incredibly flexible. “I have seen the things I meant to, since leaving the dojo.”

Mugen hums, one dumpling stick still hanging from between his lips. He chews on the end of it. His eyes dart around the area. Jin isn’t sure what to make of it -- he seems distracted. Kids are running by them with pinwheels, shouting joyously. Advertisements for goods are being shouted in the streets. For a man who thrives on chaos, seeing him seemingly unfocused in this environment is bordering on unsettling.

Without a word, Mugen tilts his chin towards a street and starts walking that way. On instinct, Jin’s hand falls to his sword hilt. They’d learned to communicate with silent glances early on in their adventure. Jin hasn’t sensed danger, but Mugen could’ve brought along some of the baggage he claimed to be free of.

The streets quiet down the further they get from the main road. Jin examines their surroundings closely as they walk in anticipation of a fight that never comes. The sound of a river becomes louder until they finally reach an embankment. Mugen walks towards the water, taking the stick from between his teeth and tossing it carelessly into the river. It follows the current, disappearing from view in seconds.

“Heard from Fuu?” 

Jin shakes his head. His grip on his sword relaxes. “No.”

Mugen looks back at him. His eyes are narrowed, brows drawn in with a complex expression of several emotions Jin isn’t sure he can fully place. “... You talked to anyone since Ikitsuki?”

Jin pauses, shame leading a hot flush to crawl up his neck. “No.” 

The river’s churn dispels any true silence. It’s the only sound between them for several moments. 

Then, Mugen turns away and speaks. “Yeah… me too.” 

\--

It’s late when they find an inn. Jin pays for the room. It’s a relief not to sleep in the grass again. Each lay their swords by their futons and undress before laying down. For Jin, the memories are rushing back with each moment they’re in each other’s presence. At least now, it’s not as likely they’ll get ambushed. 

The light is out, but neither of them are asleep yet. He’s felt it since they walked into the room. He could have sworn he felt Mugen’s eyes on him while he removed his clothes. There’s a tension in the air that Jin knows but will not name. He’s convinced it’s in his head to imagine that Mugen feels anything remotely similar. Probably loneliness, on his own part. Desperation to be with another person in any capacity. His cravings for human contact are contradicting and confusing. 

He doesn’t even know what he would want, if he were to ever be forward... Desire rises in searing flames in his gut and licks at the back of his throat. Is it sexual? He thinks so. There’s no shame in his desires, yet he dares not make any advances. He’s never been too interested in sex as it was, but his companion is an enigma his mind refuses to ignore. Yet taking the step over the edge to make his desires known gave him pause. 

If Mugen wants someone, he doesn’t hold back. Mugen is an animal for it. Jin recalls his complaints about it when he went without a woman for three _whole_ days. He takes his shot, rolls the dice. Jin doesn’t gamble. Restraint has kept him alive this long. Though, _if_ he’s been living since their departure from Itsukuri is another matter entirely.

His eyes close. He steadies his breathing, counting on the inhale. It’s impractical, unreciprocated… something would have happened by now… He’ll be gone tomorrow anyways.

A snore finally rumbles through the quiet. Jin turns his head and watches Mugen sleep.

\--

“Hey, whatever happened to that broad?” 

Mugen stands outside of a restaurant, scratching his belly. He’s leaving town today. Jin knows he must do the same, but Mugen has not disclosed where he’s going. Frankly, he doesn’t know where he’s headed, but that’s not entirely obvious to Jin.

Jin raises a brow, confused by his inquiry. “You have to be more specific.”

Mugen grins wide, toothy. “No I don’t!” He knows he’s goading Jin, it’s too easy to prod at his seeming lack of sexuality. The women were always so far and few in between. “That broad that you tried to buy! You were about to ditch us for her.” 

Jin’s gaze turns to a random spot of dirt in the road, shame prickling at the back of his neck. “Mm. Shino.” 

“Yeah, whatever her name was.” Mugen’s smile fades slowly, head tipping, but eyes fixated on Jin. 

His stomach twists. “No. I have not.”

Mugen narrows his eyes. Suspicion tempts him; Jin isn’t saying something, they both know it. “You were _seriously_ into her.”

“Hmm.” He was.

Silence hangs in the air between them. Neither knows what the other is seeking. Several seconds pass before finally, Mugen puts on a smile and shrugs. “Well, you should see what she’s up to if you ever hope to get laid again.” 

Jin doesn’t know what he was hoping to hear, but it’s exactly in Mugen’s character to say such a thing. Somehow, it’s comforting to hear, despite being so far from the truth. “It’s very considerate of you to concern yourself with my personal needs.”

Mugen scoffs softly, closing his eyes, “Yeah, well, _someone’s_ gotta tell ya to get some once in a while.” He turns on his heel, hands shoved in his pockets, almost defiant in his demeanor as he heads towards the northern gate of the town. A quick “Seeya!” is the apparent extent of their goodbyes. Jin watches him with a combination of fondness and sorrow, mourning the loss of a companion once again.

Jin heads west, intent on finding Shino.

\--

Three years pass. Jin manages better this time, making efforts to speak to people every so often. It doesn’t lead to anything lasting. There’s a sense of contentment despite the failure, one Jin focuses on during meditation, attempting to break down his own reasoning for it. Self reflection is a lifelong, ever changing battlefield, but such spaces are where he is most comfortable. 

He has spoken with Fuu twice. Once intentionally, once on accident but fairly recently. She has done well for herself, found a man she adores. Jin saw honesty in his eyes, and Fuu was eager to spare every detail she could think of. Given her life and the journey they took together, her happiness is one thing he will not spare. Given so few things he holds so highly, it makes their importance that much stronger. 

She asks about Mugen, of course. He visits more often than Jin, oddly enough. It’s an intriguing development he cannot easily comprehend. For a man who considers himself detached from caring about others, Fuu has managed to find her way into his heart. She’s done that for both of them. However, he hadn’t visited in the last year. Fuu had become engaged since then, and was eager to let him know. Jin promised to pass the information on if they crossed paths.

He’s gone from fish seller to body guard and many things in between, wandering the landscapes of Japan. The country is changing, as the way of the sword is losing its clout in favor of firearms. Jin knows from Mugen’s own experience how dangerous they are. Still, his services are still valued, and his reputation earns him either reverence of resentment. He’ll bear the burden so long as he can make enough money to survive. 

It’s not until he’s in Nagasaki again that he runs into Mugen. Almost literally, as a commotion on the main street catches his attention. Several men are shouting and clamoring through the crowds of the festival taking place. Jin is in the alley, hand on his sword, watching and waiting.

A flash of red, a man with lanky limbs grabs a pole and propels himself into the alleyway with impressive speed. Jin barely has a moment to step aside and let Mugen fly past him, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. 

He looks between the mouth of the alley, then to Mugen again, watching him take a sharp right out onto another street. Finally, five men come rushing through, panting breathlessly. Jin raises an arm, pointing. 

“He went left.” 

\--

He’s honestly not that hard to find. Mugen stands out amongst most men as it is, not to mention now having some notoriety attached to his person. Jin approaches him, knowing Mugen will sense him. 

“The red shirt is rather noticeable,” he says, sitting at the bar beside him. “You should think to disguise yourself if you insist on staying here.”

Mugen smirks, “What, you askin’ me to strip out here, perv?” He pulls his red shirt over his head anyways, a slim fitting white top underneath. It already drastically changes his silhouette. Jin finds himself initially grimacing at the state of it -- the garment is littered with stains and holes making it hardly worth wearing -- but he lets it go promptly. Mugen ties the shirt around his waist. “Thanks for tippin’ ‘em off.”

Jin nods once. “You would have done the same.”

Mugen’s smile widens before taking another drink of sake, his silence more than enough of an affirmation.

\-- 

Much like before, they end up at an inn, this time with a couple bottles of sake. Mugen is laid out as usual, head propped on an hand, his weight leaning on his elbow, one knee bent to the ceiling, all while holding his cup rather precariously in two fingers as he drinks it down. Jin wonders if there’s anything he bothers savoring in this world, or if his animalistic tendencies have worked their way into even the most basic of pleasures. 

“Fuu is to be married.”

Mugen sets his eyes on Jin, one brow raised. “No shit.” He takes the bottle, helps himself. “Who’s the guy?”

“A farmer. He has a modest plot of land. Their family have lived in the valley for generations, according to her.” He frowns, noticing the discontinuity in his drunken mind, “Surely you’ve met him. You visited last year.”

A languid shrug of one shoulder, a simple grunt is answer enough. “Probably,” he adds anyways. His speech is slurring, a feat for Mugen to achieve especially. He swirls some lingering droplets of sake before upturning the cup over his open mouth, droplets landing on his tongue. Another pour follows. “Is he any good-looking?”

Jin blinks, eyes sharply meeting Mugen’s smug expression. Both of them are sporting red cheeks from the alcohol, Mugen’s eyes somehow darker than usual. He knows it’s all a game to Mugen, one he doesn’t know how to play. “How does that--”

“All I’m sayin’ is, she deserves a handsome guy,” he takes another gluttonous drink from his cup, going yet again for another pour. He puts the bottle down with a touch more force than necessary. Jin catches his tongue darting over his lips as he waits for an answer.

“I suppose he is… attractive.” Jin feels embarrassment itching at him, making him shift. Based on Mugen’s widened smirk, he’s fallen into some kind of trap. It’s unreasonable, though -- they can both certainly be honest with one another at this point. Having both cheated death several times, saved each other, defended each other. The mere conversation surrounding such a topic as attraction shouldn’t cause him to react this way. 

That is, until those eyes set on him again, watching over the rim of his cup. Jin is prey, being stalked by a dangerous predator. A dangerous predator that Jin knows he would not stop, were it to strike.

Jin speaks after another drink. “She seems happy. He appears to be an honest man.” 

“Good. Hope he’s got the wallet to feed that appetite.” 

Jin smiles into the rim of his cup. Indeed, Fuu could eat their combined weight in food if she wanted. “Better his wallet than ours.” 

He scoffs, “You got that right.” 

They drink in relative silence, and Jin takes the moment to reflect on their many adventures. From traveling as impoverished wanderers to living lavishly, then back to relying on stealing and hospitality to make it by. Jin dwells on the memories that feel like a lifetime ago until Mugen suddenly jumps, as if spooked. “Hey, whatever happened with uh -- oh, fuck, what’s her…”

“Shino.”

Mugen nods, his head slightly lolling back on his palm. He’s drunk enough as it is to fall over, even laying down. “Yeah, that one.”

He keeps his tone level, as well as he can anyways, being this intoxicated. “She is married.”

“Aw, shit, really?” Somehow, he didn’t actually sound that sad. Perhaps it’s the fact he’s looking at his drink rather than at Jin. “Bummer.”

Jin doesn’t know what he is expecting to happen, but the topic is dropped about as fast as it comes up. What was his intention with asking about her if he didn’t want to know? Did the answer not satisfy him? Or was he just too drunk to think to ask anything beyond that? His curiosity must have been obvious, since Mugen pouts his lips and narrows his glassy gaze. “What’re you lookin’ at, four eyes?” 

He blinks rapidly, clearing his bleary vision. A pause, just barely too long, then, “Nothing.”

“No, no,” suddenly the cup is down and Mugen is moving in closer, his now free hand bracing on the floor to support his weight as he leans in over the bottle. It happens incredibly fast, or perhaps that’s his inebriation impairing his judgement. “You got somethin’ you wan’ say t’me?” 

“What on earth--??”

“You’re lookin’ at me,” their faces are mere inches apart. Jin dares not breathe. “Like -- like a--”

“Like a what?”

“I dunno!!” His other hand moves, grabs a fistful of his kimono, “Sometimes I wanna --” His eyes are darting about, unpredictable, Jin’s body remains motionless but his heart is drumming with fervor, he can hear it in his ears, his hands taking hold of his knees in favor of anything else. 

Mugen briefly loses his balance, cursing loudly as the precarious position he had completely fails. Jin can think only just quickly enough to move one hand back and catch their weight on the floor. The nearly empty bottle tobbles over and rolls on the floor. Now, Mugen’s forearm is pressed along Jin’s sternum, his other hand almost caging Jin in place while they both attempt to regain their balance here, the fall having sent a sharp and sobering jolt through their brains. Their eyes meet. Two seconds pass. 

A last minute switch. “... Wanna punch that sorry fuckin’ face a’ yours.” 

Jin recoils, brows drawn down in confusion. “... What?” 

Mugen grunts, curses again, his head turning down as he works himself backwards from Jin (it’s a series of rather cumbersome movements, a half-crawling retreat). The air finally feels breathable again, but Jin is studying the man before him closely, watching how he sways, how his jaw is visibly clenched. He’s not exactly angry, but frustrated. Annoyed. His drunken demeanor now replaced with something raw and vulnerable. 

Finally, he turns his back to Jin and pushes himself upright with a stumble, pulling his shirt off and throwing it against the wall. The motion on its own nearly sends him to the floor. “I’m goin’ t’bed.” 

The lights are extinguished once he’s laid down, and Jin promptly follows his lead. 

\--

His eyes snap open. The door has just slid shut and Jin is instantly alert -- albeit with a growing headache. 

His first instinct is to look to his left. Mugen’s bed is empty. He frowns to himself, sitting up in the dark and reaching for his katana. He doesn’t sense anyone else’s presence. It appears he’s alone. He’s not about to take any chances, though. 

Jin stands slowly and approaches the door, listening first. There’s no sound, it’s quiet all around. He opens the door slowly before looking out. Again, empty. It doesn’t ease his anxiety much at all. 

He’ll find him at the back of the building, sitting against the wall near a railing and watching the ocean. The view isn’t great, but there’s just enough of a gap between several buildings that reveals a small window overlooking the shimmering ocean water in the moonlight. Jin doesn’t have a clear view of it, from where he stands, his hand finally lowering away from his sword upon finding his friend.

He doesn’t take his gaze away from the water as he speaks, his voice low. “Thought I had to vomit.” 

Somehow, he knows it’s a lie. “That’s inherently suspicious.” 

Mugen grins in a relaxed manner. “That’s your default mood, isn’t it?” 

Jin could argue, but he chooses not to. It doesn’t seem a worthwhile endeavor. 

Mugen breathes in deep, exhaling out heavily. “C’mon.” He pats the floor. Jin sits beside him wordlessly. Their shoulders press against one another’s and Jin finally sees the view Mugen is so transfixed by. They watch the ocean, nearly a mile away from this inn, but it’s enough. Everything about this is enough. They can’t hear the ocean but the air is salty and humid, the breeze is pleasant. 

Their night had ended in such an abrupt manner, that it hasn’t allowed for any chance to truly process their conversation at all. Being drunk caused blank spots in his memory, but he recalls much of it clearly. So much time has passed. Their moments together are fleeting and brief. This moment has a certain feeling of fatefulness attached to it. He needs Mugen to listen.

“I was glad,” Jin starts, careful with his words, “when I learned Shino was married.” 

Mugen swallows around a lump in his throat, unbeknownst to Jin. The silence is enough to give way to continuing. 

“When we met, she was the first person I came across who wanted me. Back then, I did not understand, or see…” he shakes his head, not even sure himself if he’s ready to say it aloud. “All my life, I had been alone. I knew nothing but solitude, and had become accustomed to it. I believed it to be the only kind of life I would live.” 

Mugen’s eyes have since dropped from the ocean, glancing at the narrow space between their outstretched legs. 

“My judgement was clouded by a yearning for connection and acceptance. I was naive. I was naive to believe she would be happy with me.”

Now Mugen’s lips purse, openingly looking at Jin. As if he isn’t pale enough normally, the moonlight only accentuates his fair complexion. Jin feels the scrutiny and it aggravates his self consciousness, but he chooses to ignore it. “What Shino wanted was a man who sought a simple life. Mine has never been simple. To think a woman would change that is beyond ludicrous. Especially because I don’t want to change who I am, or what my life is, for the most part.” 

Jin leans his head back against the wall for a moment. It had only taken a month to find Shino, and he had much time to reflect on their brief reunion. His confliction and dread towards seeing her made clear what he’d known all along. A samurai was not going to change their ways. Not easily, and not without wanting it. Despite the hardships, traveling brought more fulfillment than becoming a man of simple trades ever would. He knew what he wanted -- _who_ he wanted -- and it had taken a shameful amount of time to see it.

When Mugen speaks, it’s quieter. “Didja know you were gonna be happy when you saw she got hitched?” 

He shakes his head. “No. I did not understand my own feelings at that point. It was only when she said the words out loud that I knew what I wanted to hear.” 

Mugen hums in response, leaning his head back similarly to Jin’s. They watch the ocean again, shoulder to shoulder. 

“I was pretty pissed that you were gonna leave without sayin’ a damn word to either of us.” 

Jin nods. A point of shame, but he’s forgiven his own misgivings by now. “I know now I would have been, as well.”

“Like, _really_ pissed.”

“I accept that.”

“It’s a good thing you realized how stupid you were being.”

“You’re belaboring the point.” 

“Yeah, to get it through that thick skull of yours.” Mugen pulls forward and shifts in place, the length of his upper arm pressed against Jin’s when he settles back again. “You pull some shit like that again, and I’m gonna come find you.” 

Jin’s eyes avert downwards, then towards his companion. “You know we don’t travel together anymore.”

Mugen shrugs. “Could.” 

Jin nods. “... We could.”

Mugen is quiet for several moments. Slowly, he closes his eyes and tilts his head back again. Jin takes the opportunity to look at him, taking in the sight of him. Even in the dark, he was a certain kind of beautiful.

\--

They don’t leave together. But it doesn’t take long for them to cross paths.

Somehow, Jin is more content following their last encounter. Finding peace does not happen overnight, but speaking in truth relieved burdens he didn’t even know he was carrying. Currently, he’s leading a lord who has hired him for protection. Apparently, another lord has sent assassins after him, and the path is dangerous enough without the added threat. The money offered buys his protection and will pay for several meals to come after it’s done. Jin doesn’t argue when a man with too much money is too scared for his own good.

Of course, he doesn’t expect for their brief pit stop to be anything more than an interlude in their journey. Oh, how he was wrong.

It starts innocently enough. The lord apparently causes a dust up inside the restaurant. Despite denying wrongdoing, he makes a rush to point a finger to his bodyguard to protect him. Itching for a fight, the men in the restaurant are quick to brandish their swords. Normal roadside thugs are no problem for Jin, though he prefers not to destroy another restaurant. The last time that happened, he was made to lead a girl halfway across the damned country. 

It’s only after cutting down the second man in the street that he spots Mugen sitting pretty at the far end of the restaurant, legs crossed and arms folded behind his head as he watches. Casual, relaxed. Sword resting across his lap. No rush to engage. It’s entertainment for him. As much as he arguably gets off on his bloodlust for a fight, he’ll apparently happily watch Jin do all the dirty work himself. They both know he can handle it. 

Suddenly, a small ball is thrown, and the road fills with smoke. Jin has just killed the last man, but it becomes obvious it wasn’t from them. Their bodies are piled carelessly in the dirt. No, this is something else. He hears faint footfalls on the dirt. Grip tight on the sword, he steps backwards. A faint glint is his only warning before he twists his sword, barely deflecting a strike. He leaps backwards to escape the smoke. 

There’s a loud bang from behind him. In that exact instance, his left side explodes with excruciating pain. His leg gives and he drops to his knee, and the moment of is enough of an opening for several daggers to fly from the smoke in front of him, two slashing his right arm. It’s a coordination, some kind of assassination attempt, on _him_. 

He looks back, a cloaked man is lifting the pistol to take aim. Jin musters the strength to twist out of the way. The second bullet strikes the dust beside his hand. He drives his strength into his legs, jumping forward, gritting his teeth as he closes in on the gunman. A third bullet is fired and grazes his shoulder, a fraction of a second before he drives his katana into the man’s gut. A guttural cough emerges from him, blood darkening his face mask. Jin takes the satisfaction to force the blade upward until he finds the lower ribs, then withdraws. 

It’s enough time for the second assassin from the smoke to throw another dagger, this one more precise than the last. It embeds itself into the back of his shoulder. Jin lurches forward, the coppery taste of blood rising in the back of his throat. His knee shakes again, wanting to give way. His pulse thuds loudly in his ears, hot blood from his wounds soaking his clothes, causing them to stick to his skin. He looks back as the edges of his vision turn fuzzy. Mugen is there on top of a motionless body in the dissipating smoke, blood on his hands, blade driven into the assailant’s back. His eyes are wide, angry. Darkness takes him.

\--

Dim orange-y light pases through the window. Everything is blurry and muted as he comes into consciousness. He blinks until his vision slightly clears, attempting to make sense of where he is. He doesn’t remember much. The last of those thugs had been cut down, the lord was hiding away in the restaurant, then a loud bang... a gunshot. Two of them. He didn’t see the ambush coming…

Jin closes his eyes, breathes out slowly. The wooden floor to his right creaks ever so slightly. 

“Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

He turns his head towards the sound of the all-too-familiar voice. To his right, Mugen is sat still, legs folded and spine curved forward in a low hunch. One hand props his chin up, his other arm resting over his knee. 

Jin attempts to speak, but all he manages is a hoarse grunt. He can already feel sweat gathering at his forehead, his body rejecting any attempt to exert itself.

“There ain’t no walkin’ this one off.” Mugen lifts his head off of his palm, examining his fingernails. It’s his way of acting casual, indifferent. “Body’s tryin’ to close a damn hole in ya. It’s gonna take more than a couple nights to close up.” 

Jin’s eyes widen a fraction. Had so much time passed already? It felt like no more than a few minutes, maybe an hour... Catching the subtle shift in expression with a sidelong glance, almost reading his mind, he shrugs, “Lord’s dead, too. Idiot thought hiding behind a wooden door would save him from getting caught in the crossfire.” 

It figures as much. Jin cannot say he’s surprised. Still, he doesn’t like the feeling of failure… though the circumstances of the events did trouble him. Was the picked fight planned all along? Would the attackers have emerged regardless? Thoughts swam in his head, bumping into each other and muddying the waters. Now wasn’t the time to think on why it happened… he could figure it out later, another time… he could feel his body clawing his consciousness back into sleep. 

Two days… two days? Had Mugen been here all along, watching over him? This house seemed abandoned from what little he could gather. The few slivers of light he could see in the old roof, the draft that occasionally passed over him. All this time… it’s been him? Despite his better judgement, he tries desperately to speak -- to thank him. To convey his gratitude, to say he owes him his life. Not just for now, but for every moment since the day they met. Unsurprisingly, his voice is strained, weak; Mugen’s attention is back on him. 

It earns him a stubborn huff of frustration. “Hey, will you can it?” Those wild eyes are set on him. They almost seem to glow in the evening light, despite most of it being blocked out by a curtain. Their connected gazes saying more in mere seconds than words have until now. It ends when Mugen turns and grabs something from beside him, the sound of a bucket being dragged closer to him. When he turns back to face him, he’s leaning over him. A cool, damp rag is placed on Jin’s forehead. “Just do what you do best and keep quiet.” 

It’s useless to fight it. His body is rapidly succumbing to sleep. His eyes close, focused on the weight of the rag, of the hand pressed gently atop it. Slowly, Mugen’s palm moves over the crown of his head. His other hand takes hold of Jin’s arm, squeezing.

“I ain’t lettin’ anybody else kill you. ‘Cept me.”

Jin smiles, and sleeps.

\--

Jin joins Mugen on the porch. The house is indeed abandoned, but it’s served them well the past week. It can’t be too far from a town, since there was rice and fish waiting by Jin’s bedside, and Mugen surely didn’t harvest his own rice and cook it while Jin was asleep. 

His entire body aches with disuse. Everything from his shoulders and middle down to his fingers and toes. It took a good ten minutes to even sit up, no less be well enough to stand and make his way out here. Slowly, he kneels down beside Mugen and begrudgingly lets out a small grunt, grimaces at his perceived weakness. Surely his presence has been noticed by now, but Mugen doesn’t say anything. His expression is oddly pensive, gaze far away towards the trees in the distance. They sit together in a peaceful quiet. That is, until he’s suddenly on the receiving end of an impish smirk. 

“So, you finally decided to move your ass, eh?” 

Jin inhales deeply, sighs, “I figure by now you’ve earned a break.” 

“I’ve earned enough breaks for a lifetime. You owe me.”

“That I do.” The sun is out and high in the sky, its warmth a welcome change to the dingy space he’s been cooped up in for several days now. Granted, he was asleep for most of it. Whatever is going through Mugen’s mind, Jin will never know. He’s content with that now. He’s not a mystery to be solved. He’s just a man, shaped by his upbringing and the winding path that’s intertwined with Jin’s own destiny. Perhaps allowing his nature to flourish freely is how it’s meant to be.

Mugen takes a breath before looking at him again, his eyes darting to his bandaged abdomen briefly. “Guess this is what happens if I don’t keep an eye on you, huh? You’re pathetic.”

“... You were sitting in the restaurant. This is the one time you were actually present for an ambush.” 

Mugen blinks. He quickly scoffs with a turn of his head, brushing off the very obvious fact. “Still, you got shot. We weren’t _together_. It was bound to happen eventually.”

“So your suggestion being, if we travel together, I won’t get shot.” 

Another smirk. “That’s right. I won’t either.” 

“It’s mutually beneficial.” 

“Now you’re gettin’ it.” 

“Very well.” 

A few seconds pass, and Mugen looks over at him again, clearly confused. “... So, what, that’s a yes?” 

It’s the question Jin had been waiting to hear for so long. Now, he’s sure, the timing is right. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Proper friends? More? Who’s to say. It was nice to write up something real quick after a million-year long, unintentional hiatus.


End file.
